Dangerous Game
by CiceroGuided
Summary: [The Quick and the Dead]Cort's thoughts as he considers his struggle against Herod.


**Title: Dangerous Game**

**Summary: Cort's thoughts as he considers his battle against Herod.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from The Quick and the Dead.**

**Warning: This is a one shot. There will be no more added to this story no matter how much you beg.**

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**You stand before me  
Now we stare eye to eye  
Before another second clicks away, one of us will die**

**You reach for your metal as I reach for mine  
The sound of bullets flying through the air is followed by a cry**

Cort stared down at his manacled hands. Blood dripped slowly from the open sores caused by the cold metal. He was used to pain. He had lived for years with an inner torment that still plagued him to no end. The physical world meant very little to this lonesome gunfighter. There was nothing left for him here. Death was the only thing he had to look forward to.

**And there cryin'**

The Padre below the border. Cort squeezed his eyes closed as that painful memory assaulted his senses. He hated himself for that day, that moment of weakness. Outlaws are notorious for their independency. In fact they often boast of being free from all influence. Cort had been one of those outlaws. But he had failed, his bragging was all talk. He had allowed Herod to control him. But after that day, he had sworn that he would let only God channel his actions.

**What will we do, what will we say when it's the end of this game that we play  
Will we crumble into the dust, my friend  
Or will we start this game over again**

But now, as he sat on the steps of John Herod's house, watching the dangerous game of gunplay unfold he began to doubt his faith for the first time. So far Herod was still in control. He owned the town, he owned you the minute you rode in. No one could escape from his net. And so it seemed, not even a man with God on his side. Not even Cort.

The young man lies alone but fastened into the ground  
The sound of fleeing feet and the cryin' eye will be his last sound

But Ellen, She was somewhat different. The gun packing woman seemed above Herod in some way. She still feared the rich outlaw as everyone else did, but that was a good thing. Fear either made you reckless or more cautious than you'd usually be. The slender blonde was strong and Cort believed she was only made more cautious of her enemy by her fear. What was more, he believed she would be one of the few to escape from Herod's control.

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But do we gain from all this?  
Now, was it worth a life? no  
We throw all of our hopes away  
And set our dreams aside**

Cort gritted his teeth as the Kid took down his Swedish challenger. The Kid had grit, but he'd never make it in his father's world. The young man still had some honesty in him. He would never make a real outlaw. Or gunfighter for that matter. But guns were all he knew, and he seemed determined to fight in his own way. If things were different, the lad would have made an excellent Marshall. It wouldn't take much to put him on the narrow way. If only things were different….

Now we're cryin'

Ratsy untied his chain and drug him over to the Fountain. Cort sighed and sat down next to the young blind boy who ran a small store out of a travel case. He smiled at the boy a moment, before returning to his brooding. Life seemed so much simpler when he was that age. And especially so before he met John Herod. His father had been a blacksmith and he had been learning the trade. He could have been happy shoeing horses and repairing wagons. There were times when he regretted ever picking up a gun to begin with.

What will we do, what will we say when it's the end of this game that we play  
Will we crumble into the dust, my friend  
or will we start this game over again  
It's coming back to me  
It's coming back to me

If he had never met John Herod, how different things would be. He wouldn't be hated and feared. Men wouldn't desire to draw on him, to find out who was faster. He hated the name Herod had made for him. A name that the old outlaw fought everyday to keep living, despite Cort's objections. Once again, Herod was drawing him into his web of lies and deceitfulness. Rasty interrupted his meditations once again; evidently, it was time to get him a gun.

What will we do, what will we say when it's the end of this game that we play  
Will we crumble into the dust, my friend  
or will we start this game over again

Time to fight once more.

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**Well? Are my events mixed up? Did I get it right? Please review and let me know.**


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